broken
by tatty ted
Summary: [INSPECTOR MORSE] Sylvie doesn't trust men but he's different. - —Sylvie/Ron.


**broken**

If there was one word to describe Sylvie Maxton, it would have to be _screwed up._

From a young age she drank gin and tonic, discovered boys & broke the occasional shop window.

But truthfully, she only did it to get away from the abuse.

* * *

><p>But now she was back, stronger than before.<p>

Successful. Talented. No longer afraid of him.

So she began to send the packages.

She wanted him to remember what he'd put her through.

* * *

><p>Because he had abused her, she never trusted men.<p>

She believed they'd only abuse her like _he_ did.

She continued to believe that until she met Imogen's husband.

& then she found herself falling in love with a married man.

* * *

><p>They'd never really spoken until that day at the farm.<p>

She'd turned up to speak to Imogen, only Imogen didn't want to see her.

She was ill Ron said but Sylvie thought it was a strange coincidence that it happened to be a day after the parcel arrived.

But surely, she couldn't have known what it meant right? Not his own daughter..

* * *

><p>"Give her these will you." She said as she handed the flowers to Ron, "They're from the garden."<p>

"Courtesy of the fabulous Phil?" He asked, "And carried here by the commendable Sylvia." She replied.

"Is that the name for you?"

She nodded, "Who is Sylvia, what is she, that all our swains commend her." She smiled.

"I'm the reliable Ron so I believe." He replied.

She laughed, "And are you reliable? I was never very commendable."

* * *

><p>&amp; there was definitely something between them.<p>

Surely she couldn't have imagined it right?

But then again, she might have done.

After all, he was the only man never to treat her like crap.

* * *

><p>As days turned into weeks, it was hard not to think about him.<p>

Was she jealous of Imogen? Yes.

After all, Imogen did have the one person she wanted more than anything.

Or so she thought...

* * *

><p>He turned up on her doorstep on the day she was going to leave Oxford.<p>

"I've left her." He said with no emotion, "I couldn't deal with it anymore."

It was raining outside and he was soaked, so she invited him inside.

But was she grateful that perhaps she could have the one person she loved?

* * *

><p>Nope.<p>

There was no pleasing some people.

* * *

><p>"You couldn't deal with what?" She asked as she poured herself another glass of brandy.<p>

"She's so distant sometimes—" He replied, "It's like talking to a brick wall."

If it hadn't been such a serious conversation, she would have burst out laughing.

Instead, she sat down on the sofa next to him and took a sip of her drink.

* * *

><p>"Did you ever love her?" She asked after one too many brandies.<p>

"Once—" He replied, "I did love her once."

"But you can't fall out of love with someone, you were—"

He interrupted her, "How do you know, you've never been in love!"

Their eyes connected for a moment and she nodded, "You're right, I haven't."

And she looked hurt that he'd spoken to her like that.

* * *

><p>They'd been sat in silence for a while before Ron said gently, "I'm sorry."<p>

She shook her head, staring into her glass, "No need, you were right. What do I know about love?"

There was a silence between them before he spoke again.

"You've never wanted to be married?" He asked her.

She just shook her head, "I'm better on my own." She whispered before taking a sip of her drink.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for letting me in." He said as he stood up, "I best be going."<p>

"You're not driving are you?" She replied as she stood up two.

Judging by the guilty expression on his face, he was planning two.

"You've had far too many, how about you stay the night?"

* * *

><p>He stared at her for a moment, "Are you sure? I wouldn't be too much trouble would I?"<p>

"Yes I'm sure." She replied but what she really wanted to say was; _you're never too much trouble._

Turning out the living room light, she pulled the door two; "Night Ron."

"Night Sylvie." He whispered before sighing deeply.

* * *

><p>And as she went to bed that night, the one person Sylvie could think about was Ron.<p>

And even if the only thing they'd ever be was friends, he had taught her an important lesson.

_Not every man was like Matthew Copley-Barnes_.

& she could perhaps learn to trust men again, like she had done all those decades before.

* * *

><p><strong>an**: if you like it enough to favourite, please review.


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